


The Doe

by downpourcity



Category: Life Is Strange (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-26
Updated: 2018-08-26
Packaged: 2019-07-03 01:46:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15808830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/downpourcity/pseuds/downpourcity
Summary: Near dusk, near a path, near a brook,we stopped, I in disquiet and dismayfor the suffering of someone I loved,the doe in her always incipient alarm.- C.K. Williams





	The Doe

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Nothing_You_Can_Prove](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nothing_You_Can_Prove/gifts).



She crawled up through the mud and the metal and grit, clawing her way up until she could smell petrichor. Rain trickled down her pale and dirty frame and within a haze of dread she walked north.

The cold bit at her ears and neck, exhausting her beyond her normal capacity however she ignored it. Because breaking would hinder her speechless to the horrors she faced down in the underbelly of hell. She smiled the devil in the face and had told him she had loved him but he paid her back with poison to her neck, sending her into a spiral of constant confusion until she was hindered restless and obsolete. Her image of innocence taken like a picture and ripped to bits until she was nothing but skin and bones.

In her inconsistent walking she meandered into a lonely gas station, falling into the front counter, and then hearing a hushed scream greet her after she blacked out into nothingness. She was carried to Columbia Memorial, stuck in a gurney and rushed into intensive care with what equipment they had. She had fallen into the arms of a woman in a gas station, having walked miles without stopping for a moment to sit. When she awoke she was covered in different clothing, shoeless and on many different medications. Her payments dealt with by a passerby.

When they asked her her name she lied. It was going to be a long time before she could say her name again. Her throat was dry and stuck together, her eyes heavy with exhaustion. Her memory was fragment of broken mirror glass, reflecting the things she wanted to see and distorting those she didn’t.

She fashioned a tale of a woman named Max Caulfield who got lost on her way back up to Seattle after stopping at a rest stop. She told of how no one helped her and she thought she’d surely die. So she walked miles upon miles to this gas station and collapsed after a long journey trying to find the bus that left so very long ago.

The passerby had stayed while the woman in the gas station left, scarred and wary of any more travelers from Seattle visiting the small coastal towns on their way back. She stayed in that hospital for only a week because that was all he could afford. He was a kind man, talking about his children and how he would do anything for him. He helped her in his car and took her all the way to Seattle, buying her clothing, giving her a forty dollar bill and letting her go on her way. He had told her that kindness was worth more than any paper.

She bought a hoodie, a pair of shoes and food to make her feel the least bit better.

She disappeared onto the roof of a building that night, sitting against the back of the inside of a billboard until she fell asleep. Nightmares screamed in her head until she was forced to be awake. The rain trickling on her head reminded her of the needles hitting her neck. She got down from the billboard, wishing she could scream his name into the sky and make him go away. A fire boiled deep within her chest as she clambered down to the alley. She passed a man spraying black and green on the wall of a building, a cop car slowly drove past his spotlight hitting the alleyway. The man dropped his cans, and darted away to unknown places.

With fear and anxiety in her heart she grabbed the spray cans and ran off into the opposite alley. The car rounded the corner, she was already on the fire escape. It stopped and she did as well, leaning against the brick building with two cans of spray against the front of her and then tucked into her pockets. The police went on their way afterward, giving up on her for a bigger fish to fry.

She collapsed on the roof, staring at the two cans in her hands above her. Rain entered her eyes as it began to downpour but she didn’t care.

Graffiti artists used the city as their canvas. Be it their mantra, for their gang or their spirit into paint. She had no voice, no meaning and no way to tell her story. Not here, not now.

For a moment the breath vanished from her lungs as she ignored everything around her. What if he took another girl? What if he made them think they were special? What if they were kidnapped? What if he tried to take their life too? What if-- She shook out from these thoughts. She heard screaming and realized it was her. She stopped, sat up from the once dry rooftop and stared down at her shaking hands.

She dropped the cans onto the roof with a thud. Black sprayed onto the side of her hand, she stared at it with wide eyes remembering all the blood. She wiped her hand on the roof over and over, spreading the paint on the stone and grit until her hand was raw. She left a mark on the roof, her eyes widening from realization.

He had stolen her name, her meaning, her voice, her reason to live, her love, her everything. She began to weep, weep for all she was worth, sickness bringing her body to the roof’s surface. She involuntarily collapsed, blacking out again as the night wore on.

She awoke in a chair in the dark room, alone. A blue figure emerged from the doorway, forming into a doe. It glowed gently, it’s features defined but hazy. She felt warmth from it, solace, a place of peace and understanding. A feather earring decorated it’s ear. For a moment it stared at her until shifting into a human.

_“Rachel Amber, wake up. You must live.”_

She felt the sensation of falling and then woke up with a gasp, her body spasming upward. The doe was burned in her mind, her dried lips moving upward into a smile.

The doe was painted on every bare street corner, every alley, showing up sporadically throughout the city at different times. It spread a message, each doe a frame of animation. People began to take notice, following the doe as it walked through the busy city. The final depiction of the doe was a dying and emaciated mass laying in a clearing with the letters “RA” marked distinctly next to it in blue.

**_Snap._ **

A picture was taken and developed within moments. A pale, brunette woman shook the image and set it in her bag as she dove into a car with a berating father who told her she was late. The ride was a simple one. They’d take highway 101 back to Arcadia Bay so she’d get to the school on time.

The doe was now behind her in her memories and in her bag. Seattle became a haze once the thought of Blackwell and Mark Jefferson took over.

Max Caulfield, as her name was, was going to start the year at Blackwell Academy in Arcadia Bay, Oregon. Blackwell, as it was known, was a prestigious school of the arts and sciences. Not just anyone got in. It was a complete and rare treat to have been accepted into the fold. She would even get her own dorm room and everything!

Coastal views passed her windows at various speeds, keeping her occupied until rounding the bend into the school’s parking lot.

Max grabbed her belongings, including her book bag and left her father with simple goodbyes and a kiss to the cheek. The doe was long behind her.

The Selfie.

The Degarian Process.

Mark Jefferson.

The Doe.

The elusive artist had made their mark again, reminding her of her picture long buried in her belongings and the missing posters she had seen plastered around campus. She grabbed it out, setting it on her sheets, staring at it with wide eyes. The new piece had used a singular word this time. Missing. The doe had three bullet holes in its side and a feather earring.

Knocking echoed on Max’s door at an ungodly hour. She got up from her bed, opening her door to be greeted with a blue haired woman with a beanie and an annoyingly familiar face. She had been crying ages before she had arrived at the photographer’s dorm room.

“Max Caulfield…” The woman sighed.

“How did you get in here?” Max was taken aback as the woman pushed herself into her dorm.

“Don’t even worry about it.” Chloe rolled her eyes, glaring at the ground.

“Chloe?” Max was surprised, scared even.

“No, Santa.” Chloe jeered.

“Why are you--” Max glared, feeling shame fill her body.

“You didn’t even say hi to me when you got back.” Chloe was quiet.

“Why now? That can’t be the reason…” Max felt anger towards herself grip her stomach.

“No, it’s not. I stopped waiting. But I know you came back from Seattle.” Chloe’s voice was emotionless despite the tears on her cheeks.

“And?” Max was devoid of all emotion even though it hurt.

“The Doe. Did you ever hear about them?” Chloe was exasperated.

“Why’s that important?” Max felt around for the photo, almost hiding it from Chloe.

Chloe grabbed the photo from under Max’s leg, nearly ripping it in half. A dead doe lay on the ground with the familiar signature ‘RA’ next to it.

“Rachel…” Chloe’s voice became hollow. “She’s still… out there.”

“Who’s Rachel?!” Max’s voice raised as she felt anger hit her even harder.

“My angel.” Chloe simply said, opening the door again and running out.

“Where are you going?!” Max stood up, running over to the hall.

“It doesn’t matter.” Chloe ran out the doors and into the clear night, adrenaline taking her body over.

Chloe wanted to save the Doe, her angel, her love. She got into her pickup truck and drove north, running on fumes all the way to Seattle just to save the one who saved her. She followed the trail that was left, the patches of back paint over her artwork left to be sandblasted off and the remnants of art that still existed.

She peeled back posters and other obstructing graffiti just to find the trail again, searching until the sun was coming up from the horizon line, throwing the world into an orange and purple glow. Her nails were stubs from peeling away fliers and other obstructions by this point as she found the final art piece via her phone, her data running out. She fell to her knees in front of the piece, holding her hand up to the paint to touch the artwork. She could feel a heartbeat, warmth, hear a distant laugh, smell her scent, feel her lips on her neck, and feel her breath on her cheek.

“Chloe?” She heard a voice behind her, a dried out and tired voice, worn thin by pain and wear. Her name was said in a way that was confused, almost scared, and it hurt her.

She turned her head, looking up at a hooded figure with brilliant strawberry blonde hair that ignited in the light that leaked around the ally side. She ran to her, pulling her into her arms. Was it coincidence or destiny that had brought them back together? “Rachel… I… missed you so fucking much.” Chloe sniffled, sobbing into the bony frame of her girlfriend like a child.

Rachel smiled, a true smile, burying her face into her shoulder.

“I love you, Chloe.”


End file.
